1603
by SewingSlytherin
Summary: Being written by request from dramione1603. Marriage law fic featuring Draco Malfoy and Hermione Granger.
1. Chapter 1

Morgan snapped back to the present as she smelt burning. She had drifted off into a trance yet again, and ruined the stew for the second day in a row. She cursed under her breath as she muttered a spell to vanish what had spilled. She could have done it silently, but it took more energy to do it that way than she wanted to exert.

"Another vision?" her brother asked.

She gave a curt nod as she bustled around, trying to save the stew. Whatever it was about cooking that brought on the visions she would have to change.

"Third one this week," he said. "Was it the same as the two before?"

Morgan nodded. "They're getting stronger. Whatever it is, we have to do something. But I don't even have the faintest idea what to do."

"It's war, there's not necessarily a way to stop it."

"I know that Robert. The problem isn't the war. It's the heartache that comes afterwards. And the unwillingness of everyone to change. There's a girl, and no matter how things go she's going to be looked down just for her birth."

Robert sighed. "I thought we were past that," he said.

"I'm afraid that it looks like it will be a struggle for people well into the future. This vision is so far in the future that women are wearing trousers," Morgan said.

Robert laughed. "I can't imagine a future where all men wear trousers often enough that women would want to as well. Horribly impractical."

"I don't know if I could say that," Morgan argued. "The way everyone moves it seems way more practical to wear trousers than robes. The fighting's more advanced than anything I've ever seen."

The blood that had returned to her face faded again as she recalled what she had seen. The world swayed under her feet and everything went black.

* * *

Morgan woke up to her mother and father standing near her bedside. They didn't look worried, but since they both had the gift of sight it wasn't unlikely that they had seen that she would be fine.

"Robert said the visions had been getting worse," her father said.

"Robert knows that he's not supposed to tell you about the visions without me," Morgan said. "He always gets the details wrong."

"You fainted," her mother said. "He wasn't wrong to get us. We knew that the visions were getting stronger. We've been getting them too. But he wasn't wrong to tell us that. And that was all he told us."

Morgan swung her legs over the side of her bed. She didn't want to spend all day in bed. It made her feel awful. But she wasn't sure that she wanted to try standing on shaky legs with her parents watching her. Even if they had the sight, she didn't like to watch the looks on their faces.

"Is there anything else you need?" she asked. Morgan did her best to keep the irritation out of her voice. She wasn't sure if she succeeded, but felt as if she was failing.

"Just your agreement to record your prophecy when it comes, and it will," her father said.

Morgan shuddered. She could vividly recall the handful of times her mother had come to prophecy. And her father, who was often far from home, had had them even less. Morgan herself had only given one prophecy, and it was the most excruciating time of her life.

She had felt as though she had lost control of herself. She wasn't looking forward to doing that again. But she knew that the stronger a gift was, the more likely it was that a prophecy could come from any vision. But at least with a vision, she could tear herself out of it.

She had had an inkling that her visions were leading towards a prophecy. They were strong, and getting stronger by the day. But it was so far away in the future that she hoped the time would allow her to escape.

She nodded. With what she was seeing, it was the least she could do to have it recorded. Maybe, just maybe, it might save someone some suffering in the future.

* * *

"Prophecy 1603," the clerk said.

"No one's asked for that in a while," the department of mysteries worker said. "Beware, it's old."

"I know it's old," the clerk retorted. "That's why I was asked to fetch it. The minister seems to think that there's something in there that's important."

"The minister's been looking for something important since he took office. I'm still not sure he'll find significance in the only prophecy from that year," the worker said. "Whatever it was, it was important enough to be recorded. It came from a small family all gifted with the sight apart from the squib son. Still no clue what it means."

"I don't know either," the clerk said. He sounded exasperated. "It's 1805 and he's not scheduled to have anything done until next year. Whatever he's looking for had better be worth it."

"Just make sure that he doesn't do anything crazy with it. It's the original, and the only copy we've got the funds for," the worker said.

* * *

The minister of magic frowned over what he had just listened to. He didn't know what he had been looking for, but it appeared as if he had just found it. He penned a letter to his undersecretary. Something would have to be done. Something drastic.

* * *

A/N: I know this chapter is a little disjointed. And it might not necessarily have much to do with the rest of the story. But it's important. And it will make sense later. I guess it's more of a prologue than anything.


	2. Chapter 2

Hermione picked herself up off the floor and walked into the bathroom. After spending a year in the run, she found her bed much too soft. They had only been sleeping somewhere other than the tent for two days, but Hermione was sure that she would feel more comfortable sleeping inn a rock pile than in a bed.

She groaned at the sight of her hair. The year on the run hadn't done get hair any favours, but at least she didn't have to face it in the mirror every morning. Since they weren't running from anything, access to a mirror had occurred again and Hermione once again had to cope with the bushy mess she called her hair.

When she was ready, she headed down to the kitchen. She was staying at Grimmauld place with Harry. It wasn't the most comfortable place, but it was quiet. And she found that even though towards the end of everything she and Ron had grown closer, she still needed some time and space to sort things out in her mind.

She had breakfast cooked by the time Harry came down from his room. His hair was as much of a mess as ever, which wasn't a good indicator of how long he'd been up. The rumpled pajamas he was still wearing were a clue.

"Morning," Hermione said brightly.

Harry mumbled something that sounded like morning around his mug of tea.

Hermione sighed as softly as she could. Harry had become less of a morning person. Not that he'd ever been much of one. Too many exciting things had happened at night. And it was hard to relax, even though they both knew that no one was coming after them.

Two owls flew in as the odd pair was eating breakfast. Harry ignored them, still obviously half asleep. Hermione took the letters and paid the owls before they flew off again.

She handed one to Harry who glanced at it and then focused on his food again. She opened hers, carefully, and read through the first paragraph while she picked at her eggs. The second paragraph caused her to drop her fork.

"No." She gripped the parchment with both hands. "No."

"What does it say?" Harry asked.

"Everyone knows that divination is just a bunch of hoopla," Hermione reassured herself. "It will all be fine. You've just got to go talk to the Wizengamot."

Harry opened his letter. His mouth formed a frown as he read. "I don't think there's any getting out of this, 'Mione," he said. "This law's been around for centuries. I don't think that even the Wizengamot has much hope of pulling the country out of this mess."

Hermione glared at him. "There is always a way out. Didn't we learn that in the war? Didn't we learn that there's always hope."

"I thought we learnt that the government was hopeless at taking care of anything."

Hermione sighed and leant into her hands on the countertop. It was one thing to be the brains behind a secret war mission. It was another to be smart when she knew there was no way she could get herself out of the mess she was in.

"At least we're in this mess together," Harry said. "Maybe you and Ron will make things work after all."

Hermione scoffed. "It doesn't take divination to know that Ron and I probably won't make things work in the long haul. After he left us in the Forest of Dean, I don't know how to trust him again," she admitted.

* * *

Draco read the letter the ministry had sent him. According to it there was a law set up in 1805 that had couples set up through prophecy. Draco had heard about that provision, it was set up concerning a prophecy from 1603, but he had never expected it to come to fruition in his lifetime.

Of course, Draco had never put that much stock into divination. He'd heard that it was a sought-after skill. And most of the pureblooded girls were expected to at least take an O.W.L. in divination. But for the most part, Draco had found it to be a load of codswallop.

He shrugged. It would hopefully be someone better than whoever his parents had picked out. They had lost the war, but not their ideology. And until some penance had been done for their crimes, he doubted that his parents would change for the better. Even if he hoped otherwise.

He also hoped that in light of this new law he wouldn't need to go to Azkaban. Not that he didn't feel a need to pay for his crimes. But he also recognized that with a law requiring him to marry some poor woman, he would need to be around. At least for her sake.

* * *

A/N: So here we're introduced to some of our main characters. I hope that you guys like this chapter. I'm expecting a lot of uproar from more of the characters in the next chapter. And I don't know why Harry is so calm. I'm blaming it on stress and a lack of sleep. He's had really bad nightmares. Which was to be expected.


	3. Chapter 3

Hermione Granger and Draco Malfoy stared at each other from across the table. They'd been called into one of the ministry rooms and told that they were now expected to get married.

"You have got to be kidding me," Hermione muttered.

"This is utterly preposterous," Draco grumbled.

"There's no way that a prophecy from 1603 could possibly be accurate," they both chorused.

Hermione flushed and pushed a strand of hair back behind her ear. She had never heard anyone, much less a Slytherin, say that divination wasn't the be all end all. After all, Voldemort had put stock in it. And Malfoy's own father had been locked up for trying to take a prophecy.

Draco was less obvious in his emotions. He had been learning to hide them for years. Practically since he was able to. And so, even though his stomach was churning and his heart was threatening to beat itself out of his chest, he managed to hide it decently.

Maybe this prophecy wasn't as much of a hunk of junk as he had originally thought. He was still sure that it was just an educated guess. There was no way that a woman from over three hundred years ago could know what he needed in his love life.

Across the table, Hermione was thinking along similar lines. She knew that if someone had taken it at face value, she wouldn't have had a happy life with them. And even though Malfoy clearly didn't, she still wasn't sure. But maybe, just maybe, things might work out.

She shook her head. What was she thinking? It was Malfoy. Draco Malfoy. There was no way, no matter what some long dead woman thought, this could ever in a million years work out.

"I'm afraid that there's no getting out of this," the ministry worker said. He was a young man, just a few years older than them.

A parchment appeared on the table in front of them. It was blank.

"As soon as you come up with some agreements concerning your upcoming nuptials, we can let you go. Until that point, I'm afraid you're stuck."

He vanished from the room. Which was likely good for his own safety. Had he stuck around there would have most certainly been spells flung. And not of a harmless variety. However nonlethal they might turn out to be.

Hermione sank her head into her hands. "How can they ask us to do this? We're probably going to kill each other. And I know Harry and Ron are going to be betting on how long it takes us to do it."

"Granger," Draco said.

"Hermione," she snapped back.

"What?"

"Call me Hermione. We're getting married after all. And even if I expect this to end badly, I'd like my future husband to at least call me by my first name."

"Alright, Hermione," Draco said. The word felt weird on his tongue. He supposed he would get used to it, but for the time it was a strange sensation. "I don't think you'll have to worry about me killing you."

Hermione scoffed, the disbelief clear on her face. "What makes you so sure about that."

Draco looked down at his hands. It was hard to explain. He didn't want Hermione to come to the wrong conclusion. And he knew that unless he could articulate his point well, she would. She didn't have the same background as he did.

"It has to do with the magic that's been passed down through my family," Draco said. "We're very protective of our own. And as such, anyone who marries into our family is protected."

"What?"

"Surely Weasley told you that certain magical families inherited certain traits," Draco said.

He steadied himself. He wouldn't be surprised if Ron hadn't told Hermione that. It seemed as if Ron just forgot that Hermione was a muggleborn. Which wouldn't have been a huge issue, if it didn't mean that there were huge gaps in her knowledge.

And Harry was about as bad off. He'd been raised by muggles, so was also lacking knowledge. But he was the savior of the wizarding world. And as such, he could get away with not knowing things that everyone else seemed to know.

"Ron said something about his family being very family oriented. And that was one of the reasons that the Weasleys often had lots of children," Hermione said.

"And was that part of the reason you two didn't wind up together? I mean in this matchmaking thing," Draco said.

Hermione cracked a small smile. "If we had, it would have been so weird. We're more like siblings than friends. And marrying him would have been almost wrong."

"I feel the same way about Pansy," Draco confessed. "And our parents were pushing for us to get married. If one good thing came out of this, it's that I don't have to marry her."

Both of them shared a glance. Neither was willing to admit that they were considering the possibility that the prophecy might be more accurate than they had first thought. And neither of them was going to admit that they were pleasantly surprised by the match that they had made. Maybe that would come later.

"So, rules," Draco said.

"Right," Hermione said. She focused. "No blood status jabs."

"Absolutely," Draco said. "I also think that, while there are likely to be arguments, we should strive to bring up issues as they arise in a calm and collected manner."

"I'd say that's more of a regular guideline than a specific rule for us," Hermione countered.

Draco shrugged. "I know that we both have tempers."

"Fair enough," Hermione said. She couldn't argue with that. She did have a temper.

It wasn't as explosive as Ron's. But it simmered until it came to the point where she boiled over and was a rather destructive force. She'd destroyed Walburga Black's painting in a fit of rage. She'd burnt it, listening as the woman depicted screamed. But she'd been done being called names for her blood status.

It wasn't something she could control. And Walburga knew that. She was just a cruel woman. And Hermione had had enough. She didn't have any remorse in doing that. The real Walburga Black had been long dead. That was just a depiction of her.

That had been the last instance of Hermione's rage. And possibly one of the more vengeful moments she had had. But it had been six months since that incident. She hadn't felt anything close to it in a while, but she could easily remember just how her blood had boiled at the mere thought of Malfoy back at school.

"So, be kind and courteous," Draco wrote down on a small piece of parchment.

"That's not the list," Hermione said.

"It's not for the list," Draco murmured. "It's for me. I don't want to do something wrong by mistake."

 _With that attitude I doubt you will,_ Hermione thought.

She looked down at her own hands. She hadn't given marriage much thought in the recent months. To be fair, she had other things on her mind. No one was going to blame her for trying to put herself back together before actively seeking a relationship.

Or they shouldn't. She knew that some people would. Just as some people were still expecting her and Ron to wind up together. But she guessed that a person couldn't please everyone. There were far too many opinions. And then she'd be miserable.

Maybe she could be happy with Malfoy. She still doubted it. And she wasn't about to put any stock in a prophecy. Especially one as old as the one causing the law she was now ensnared under. And she wasn't about to try extra for the ministry.

But, even so, she could feel something stirring. It was strange. And it wasn't something she'd felt before. She had no frame of reference for it. But, she was sort of thrilled by it.

About half an hour later, Hermione and Draco had some sort of semblance of an agreement. It vanished into the air with a pop when they'd both agreed on it.

"I guess that's that," Hermione said. She was sort of shocked.

Draco felt his stomach drop at her words. He wasn't sure why. He didn't even like Granger, right? They'd hated each other for most of Hogwarts. And by the time he didn't hate her, they were on opposite sides of a war. Even if he hadn't wanted to be.

"Lunch Thursday?" he found himself asking.

"I'd like that," Hermione said with a soft smile.

 _Where had that come from?_ Hermione wondered. She wasn't supposed to feel butterflies in her stomach. It was Malfoy. Some stupid law didn't change that.

* * *

A/N: So I finished this chapter. Finally. This was really hard to write. I feel like Draco's slightly OOC. But we'll try to make it I'm sure that half of it doesn't make sense. Hopefully it will later. Also, I got glasses. I can see. And my headaches are so much better. Hopefully this will lead to me writing more. We'll see. Will update my profile picture to pictures of the new glasses soon.


	4. Chapter 4

Hermione and Draco had agreed to meet in a quiet little pub for lunch on Thursday. Draco wasn't quite ready to venture into the muggle world, mostly because he had no clothes. No muggle clothes at least.

"You ready?" she asked.

"About as ready as you are I expect."

Oddly enough, even though Hermione could feel her heart pounding, she was ready. She couldn't quite explain it. Somehow, she felt tied to Malfoy already. And they hadn't even begun what would probably be counted as their first date.

"I guess we should go in then," Hermione said. She fiddled with the strap of her handbag.

Draco held the door open for her. They ordered food and sat down. The pub wasn't crowded, but they spoke in soft tones so as not to be overheard.

"So, what are you planning on doing?" Draco asked. "I know the ministry's offered auror positions to you, Potter, and Weasley."

"Turned that down," Hermione said. "It feels too much like the war's still going on. Before this I was actually planning on seeing if I could go back and take my N.E.W.T.s. Guess that's not happening now."

Draco noticed that she sounded slightly remorseful. Not in any way that suggested that she blamed him, or even anyone. But just that she couldn't get the schooling that she obviously longed for.

"Hermione, we can pay for someone to tutor you and have you take the exams," he offered.

Hermione looked up at Draco. He looked at her earnestly, without the slightest hint that he might want something in return. She couldn't believe it.

"Will you need that?" she asked.

It was the only thing that she could think of that would make Draco offer such a gift to her.

"I already took my exams," Draco said. "The ministry might have been corrupt, but the testing sector was left fairly intact. Mostly because no one wanted to say that exam scores counted for anything less under the dark lord."

Hermione frowned.

"I'm sorry," Draco said. "I shouldn't have brought it up."

"Why offer?" Hermione said. She was still puzzling over that.

Draco looked down at the glass of water he held in his hands. "Because, I know it means a lot to you. And I might not have been a fan of the idea of being married to you, but worse things could have happened. And I would hate it if you resented me from keeping opportunities from you."

They spent the rest of lunch in relative silence. There were a few comments, mostly relating to the food before Draco paid the bill and they left.

"So," Draco started.

"So?" Hermione answered.

"Do you want the tutor?" Draco said. He was still nervous to bring it up.

Hermione nodded. She didn't trust herself to say even the one word answer she would give without her voice shaking. And she wasn't quite ready for that sort of vulnerability just yet.

"Then I'll arrange the interviews this week. What days would you be available to meet?"

"Any day really," Hermione said. "But what do you need me there for?"

Draco raised an eyebrow. "You're the one going to be learning from them. I'd rather you have a tutor you like than one you want to throw out on his ear after the first week."

Hermione smiled and let out a small chuckle. She wasn't sure that she would throw a tutor out on their ear, even if she hated them. But she appreciated the concern. Draco was different than she expected. More caring. Less, something. She couldn't find the right word.

"Monday?" she asked.

"I'll see what I can do," Draco said.

They stood awkwardly, neither sure of exactly how to proceed. It was technically a date, in the strictest definition. And both of them were thinking of it in that way, though they were unsure of what to expect from the reaction of the other.

Were they supposed to hug? Shake hands? A kiss would definitely be improper. After all, they were only now becoming civil with each other.

"Oh blast," Draco said. He pulled Hermione into a hug.

She smiled into his embrace, glad that it hadn't been her to make the first move. As much as she wanted it, it was comforting to know that Draco wanted it just as much as she did.

* * *

A/N: so this chapter is a little shorter. I'm slightly sorry for that. But not that sorry. I've been a little busy. I'm working on an original fiction piece. I'm only three pages into it and it's hard. But I love these characters. (Half of my problem is that I want to write out of order. So I have, sort of. But it's not been in great detail.) And, I'm getting married! In June! AHHHHH!


	5. Chapter 5

"Who'd you get?" Ron asked Hermione one day during dinner.

Harry and Hermione were living at Grimmauld place while Ron was still at the Burrow. He wanted the stability of family life for a while, even if Fred wasn't there. But he still came over for dinner at least once a week.

"Draco Malfoy," Hermione said in a hushed voice. She still didn't believe it half the time. Especially with the way he was acting.

Ron looked like he was going to choke for half a second. His face went from white, to red, and almost made its way to purple before he shook his head. It took a few more minutes before his colour returned to normal and he could speak again.

"I don't believe it."

Hermione shook her head. It had taken Harry a full week after hearing the news to even speak about it. He was still coming to grips with his match as well. A Hufflepuff girl in the year below named Emma Lauer.

"Who were you matched up with?" Hermione asked. She knew the answer would get him a little more focused.

"Astoria Greengrass."

Harry spewed his half-chewed bite of pasta over the table. "I'm sorry. Did you say Astoria? Greengrass?"

Ron nodded. "I didn't think it was right. But I feel drawn to her. Sort of unspeakably. Never thought I'd get along with a Slytherin. Still don't think I'll get along with Malfoy."

"I figured as much," Hermione said dryly. She had. And she still wasn't sure exactly how Draco was going to act around her friends.

Harry picked up the food that he'd spit out on the table with his napkin. "I guess I didn't think they'd be that crazy in their matches," he said.

"You got matched with someone you didn't know," Ron said. "I doubt you're anyone to talk."

"But she knew him. She was in the D.A." Hermione said.

"A lot of people were in the D.A. I don't even know how you manage to keep track of it now that it's been a few years," Harry said.

"Lists," Hermione said. "I swear that I've told you two often enough."

"Doesn't mean we were listening," Ron mumbled.

"I heard that," Hermione said. She was feeling slightly playful with that comment.

Both Harry and Ron sighed. They knew that tone of voice all too well. Hermione was planning on using Ron's words against him at some point in the future. And they had no idea when.

The fact that Hermione probably didn't have a specific event in mind wasn't much comfort. She had a feeling it would be useful for her purposes. That was enough to be frightening.

"At least you have an excuse for it," Ron hissed at Harry. "Being the chosen one doesn't allow for you to keep up with everything."

"She's not going to let that slide," Harry whispered back.

"She can still hear you," Hermione teased.

Both Harry and Ron gulped audibly. They were screwed.

* * *

The next week went by decently. Hermione had another date with Malfoy, that had essentially turned into a discussion over where they should live. They hadn't gotten many concrete ideas about that. But neither wanted to live in Malfoy Manor.

Hermione had confessed that the building still gave her nightmares. And Draco, for reasons that she still wasn't entirely sure of, had decided right then and there that they would look at other options. He also had offered looking at a new house. Just for the two of them.

"If we're going to turn tradition on its head so thoroughly, we might as well do it in a place we like," he'd said.

"You don't like the manor?"

Hermione could understand that. There was a certain scar on her, though it was healing better than anything she expected, that still brought nightmares of that space. Particularly the drawing room.

Draco flushed. "I have nightmares about the house. I've been living in a muggle flat in London," he confessed.

Hermione looked at him, confusion clearly written across her face. It wasn't entirely unexpected that he would want to distance himself from what had happened in the war. But she could hardly believe that he'd turn to muggle London for comfort.

"It started the day we were told that we were to be married," Draco said softly. "I'd had nightmares before. I can't actually stand that house. I have no clue how my mother manages to stay even somewhat sane while there."

"How long is her house arrest?" Hermione asked.

Draco sighed. "Two more years. I think she might lose her mind. I might lose mine."

Hermione could hardly imagine it. She hated Malfoy Manor with a passion. But she'd been in there for mere hours. She couldn't comprehend what someone who had to live there for at least a year with Voldemort would feel.

"Do you get to see her often?" Hermione asked.

It was a very thinly veiled question. It was Hermione wondering about how often Draco returned home. Or to the place he had once called home.

"More often than I'd like, and less often than I should. But I can't bring myself to go often."

Hermione nodded. She couldn't go home herself, even if it was at that point safe. There were too many memories and her parents weren't even there.

* * *

A/N: I've been neglecting this story. Sadly. But here's a chapter.


End file.
